


James Dean Daydream

by objectlesson



Category: Cars (Movies)
Genre: Costumes, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, First Time Topping, Light Role-play, M/M, Romance, So much tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 04:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19055185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/objectlesson/pseuds/objectlesson
Summary: Lightning dresses up as James Dean for a Route 66 trivia night and Doc loses his cool, a little bit.





	James Dean Daydream

**Author's Note:**

> Isabelle this is for you! I once asked what PWP I should do next and you provided BOTH 1. Doc finally getting fucked 2. Lightning McQueen dressing up as a 50s actor so I combined them and voila! This came out. Lighting's a vers bottom ok.

The bathroom smells overwhelmingly like hairspray, so much so Lightning is a little dizzy as he surveys his appearance in the mirror, making finger guns at himself. “Last call, old man,” he shouts over the din of whatever Doc’s watching on TV. It sounds boring, like a football game or the news or something. “There’s still time to throw on a costume and stop being a grumpy, no-fun grandpa.” 

“I’m plenty of fun,” Doc shouts back to him. “Dressing up _is not_ fun. I’m not the problem, here.” He turns the TV up then, and Lightning rolls his eyes, an expression which immediately turns into a pout the second it crosses his face. He’s not _mad_ Doc is refusing to come to Flo’s costume-required Route 66 Trivia party at the diner. He's mostly just _sad_ about it, the way he’s often sad about the way Doc refuses to publicly state that he’s anything other than Lighting’s crew chief and mentor despite the fact they’ve fucking _lived together_ for at least a year now. And he _gets_ it, he really does. Doc grew up in a different time period with different rules about not just gay-stuff but reputation and propriety stuff _period_ , and Lightning can’t begin to pretend he understands it all. But _still,_ it makes him feel all itchy and tight in his chest that Sarge and Fillmore and Luigi and Guido get to just _be couples_ at town events like this,even if it’s in a weird, unspoken sort of way, and he and Doc _don't_. Lightning really wants that, but Doc is weird about it, so here he is. Going to the trivia party _alone,_ dressed up _alone._

He shrugs on his red jacket, sprays a final, finishing layer over his coifed-back blonde curls, and heads out into the living room. At least he can go get a _goodbye_ kiss before he walks to the diner to lose spectacularly to Mater at trivia. He sidles out in front of the TV, doing a dramatic 180 degree turn. “What do you think?” he asks, putting on his best brooding, _East of Eden_ pout. 

Doc stares at him, silently. Then he mutes the game. 

“What?! You don't recognize it? Wait, wait,” Lighting says, grabbing Doc’s beer can off of its coaster on the coffee table and pressing it to his cheek before clearing his throat and wailing “ _You’re tearing me apart!”_ in a terrifically melodramatic voice. 

“I recognize it,” Doc says quietly then, shaking his head, rubbing his palm over his mouth in the way he always does when he’s properly overwhelmed by something, trying to get his bearings. “He crashed on highway 46, not 66. Just so you know,” he adds, and maybe it’s supposed to sound like teasing, but it comes out clipped, raw. 

Lightning sets the beer back down, cocking his head, waiting for whatever this oncoming storm is with curiosity. He didn’t think it was a particularly good or bad costume, so he’s not sure why Doc is so _affected._ Hell, half of it is what he usually wears, just a white V neck tucked into blue jeans. All he did was do his hair a little differently and borrow a red bomber jacket from Sally. 

“Well, _what?_ Too lazy? I couldn't get something _good_ together in time, I-”

Doc waves his hand through the air in front of him dismissively, blue eyes flashing. “No, it’s just. You look good. Fucked me up for a second there. I just. I sure had eyes for James Dean back when he was in movies, that’s all.” 

Lighting suddenly feels hot all over, the jacket making him sweat so much he’d shuck it off if he wasn’t newly and deeply invested in maintaining his _exact_ appearance, wielding it as a potential bargaining chip, or at least a needle to dig into soft flesh. Doc hardly _ever_ talks about his past, so every time it comes up naturally Lightning freezes, turns into a fucking _sponge,_ so eager to soak up whatever information Doc might be willing to leak. “Oh,” he says, fidgeting before sitting down on the couch, eyes wide, stinging. “Well, fair. He was really hot.” 

“You’re a vain son of a bitch, Lightning,” Doc scoffs then, shaking his head, leaning in and pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to the corner of his frowning mouth. “Go have fun at that party.” 

“ _No_ , I want to hear about your crush on James Dean,” Lightning urges, crossing his arms, settling expectantly against the couch cushions. “C’mon.” 

“What’s there to say?” Doc grumbles, turning away from Lightning, sighing as his gaze sweeps to the ceiling. “I was a kid, just starting to know what I was, and he looked the way he did, so I noticed it. Liked his movies for it. Not rocket science.” 

“Did you imagine him—I dunno. Did you imagine fucking him?” Lightning asks, mouth suddenly dry as he inches minimally forward, reaches a hand out to rest on Doc’s thigh. He’s forgotten about trivia, doesn’t care to remember if there’s the option to fulfill some half-buried fantasy of Doc’s instead, and get fucked hard on the couch here in his James Dean costume. It’s definitely all he can think about, now. “Or him sucking you off? He’s got those lips.” 

Doc shakes his head again, blue eyes sliding closed, leaving Lightning feeling lost and yearning, even if it’s just for a moment, the second it takes before he snaps them back open, narrows them. “I think, in those days, I was more likely to imagine _being_ fucked. M’pretty sure I fantasized about that, some James Dean type guy with a nice fast car coming to Thomasville and showing me how to take it. I was new to how I felt, wanted someone to show me the ropes.” 

Lightning promptly chokes on his own spit, mind _racing,_ heart pounding _. “_ Jesus _christ,”_ he mumbles, hiding his newly burning face in the ditch of his elbow to catch his breath. Doc has never expressed any explicit interest in being fucked, never asked that specifically, even after he got more comfortable asking for things. It took Lightning a good six months of mutual dick-sucking to warm up to the idea himself, and now that he’s addicted to it he’d almost _forgotten_ it's something that can be mutual, too. And he’s _down,_ why the fuck _not?_ He didn't even know he was into guys _at all_ before Doc, and his mind just _keeps being blown_ ever since then. He’s gotten sort of used to it, shifting his perspective on something formerly terrifying in a matter of seconds. “I could show you how to take it,” he announces, grip tightening on Doc’s thigh, sliding up, his brain nothing but static. “If you wanted that.” 

Doc regards him hotly for a moment, before the fire gives way to glittering amusement. “Could you?” he says then, raising an eyebrow. “All 5’6 of you? All four inches of cock?” 

Lightning gasps, genuinely offended for at least two whole seconds before his mind is, once again, absorbed with determination. He’s in the racing zone now, Doc’s ass is the prize, and he’s gonna _win. “_ I thought you _liked_ my dick. It gets the job done.” 

“When the job is being sucked, sure,” Doc says, though his gaze sweeping down to Lightning’s lap, not at all uninterested. He looks intrigued. “Never had it in me before, though. Not sure you’re up for that, boy. It’s messy business.” 

“I like messy, when it’s with you,” Lightning reminds him, biting his lip, committing. He swings a leg over Doc’s lap and settles into it, thumbing up under his jaw and tilting his mouth up to kiss rough, hungry. “I want to fuck you,” he announces, voice low and threadbare with want, but _certain_ all the same. Steady enough Doc shudders under him, opens his mouth to gasp. “If you _don’t_ want it, then fine. M’obviously not gonna make you. But I won’t listen to any of your excuses if they’re all about what _I want,_ what _I_ can handle. Because I know what I can handle.” 

“Oh do you?” he growls out, rubbing his palms up and down Lightning’s sides before sneaking them between his shirt and jacket, where heat is trapped. “Know exactly what you’re getting into?” 

“Yeah,” he promises, kissing him hard. Doc grabs his ass as he grinds against him, and it takes so much fucking self-control to reach around and bat his hand way. He’s not gonna let Doc fucking distract him. He’s going to win. 

—-

They end up in bed, since that’s where the lube and condoms are and they have more space, more familiarity. Lightning is still fucking _nervous_ though _,_ now that he’s here, sweating in the red bomber jacket as he bears down on Doc, humping against him, rutting his cock hungrily into the humid space between his legs, which he's got spread. They’re wearing clothes and it’s not real fucking, of course, just the motion of it, but even _this_ is so much, so heady in how different it is that lying there and letting Doc have his way with him. His arms are trembling and strained and he’s flushed and breathless, stalling with kisses. 

It’s not like he’s freaked out about any of the stuff Doc’s convinced will scare him away. How carnal it is, the reality of the inside of another man’s body, Doc’s age, his physical limitations. Mostly, he’s just worried he won’t be good at it. And he _hates_ not being good at things. He needs to be an _expert_ the first time, and that’s pretty high-stakes for something like this. “You ever gonna undress and put it in me?” Doc mumbles, lips all over Lightning’s shoulder as he peels the jacket back to expose it, the neck of his shirt stretched to reveal skin. “Not too late to back out, baby James Dean.” 

“Not backing out,” he growls, peeling back, sitting on his haunches to unbuckle his belt and work his jeans down around his thighs. Doc’s gaze falters, gets hot and hungry as it’s drawn to the obscene bulge in his briefs. “Just want you worked up.” 

“I’m ready,” Doc assures him, rubbing over his own cock, which is tenting his sweats. “This isn’t my first rodeo.” 

Lightnings stomach clenches weirdly as he climbs off to properly strip out of his pants and underwear, feeling exposed with his cock thumping against his stomach as he frees it. He’s naked around Doc all the goddamned time, but somehow this feels like the first time, raw and vulnerable. He fists his length with one hand, gets the lube out of the bedside table with an other, ignoring how his fingers are shaking, how dizzy he feels. “How many times have you been fucked?” he asks, even though he doesn't really want to know. His fascination regarding Doc’s past will _always_ outweigh any weird jealousy. 

“By a man? A handful of times. Five, maybe six different people, maybe ten times total. Not enough,” he admits, frowning as he plays with his cock idly, hand moving under his sweats. He’s a fucking tease, Lightning wants to _see,_ so he reaches for the waistband, urges him to arch his back up off the mattress so he can roll them down his thighs. Then he’s pressing his face there, inhaling sweat, musk, home, _Doc._ He mouths over steely hot skin, eyes fluttering closed. 

“That’s not fair,” he mumbles, licking wet and messy, lips bumping against Doc’s knuckles since he’s still touching himself while Lightning smells him, breathes him in. “Gonna fuck you really good. You deserve everything you want, everything you never got.” 

Doc pets his hair. “S’fine. It was never that good, anyway, I could never relax enough to enjoy it as much as when I did it to myself. No big loss.” 

Lightning thinks of the realistic dildo Doc has, the one he’s used on him when he couldn’t get it up or wanted to fuck his face while he was filled up or whatever. It sends a spike of hungry longing through his body to think of Doc fucking himself with it, and he wonders if he did it slow and careful with a lot of lube, or if he’d just shove it in rough, desperate to push himself over the edge. _Fuck,_ it’s all so hot to imagine, his stomach is tight and roiling as he thinks about Doc waiting it like _he_ wants it: that insatiable craving to be fucked. So, riding the wave of arousal and before he can chicken out, he spits on his fingers and rubs them down below Doc’s balls, into the crack of his ass. “You really don't have to, baby. Love the way we are, don’t need this, too,” he murmurs, but he also parts his thighs to give Lightning more access, kicks his sweats the rest of the way off, which is confidence inspiring. 

“I know I don’t _have_ to, but I _want_ to,” Lightning reminds him, mouth open and sucking the underside of his shaft, tongue flicking over the vein there he loves. He pulls away messily, lips slick. “Not just because I want to make you feel good and give you stuff you didn't have, but because like. _Fuck._ I want to. _I want_ to be inside you. Come inside you.” 

Doc’s breath stutters and he swallows audibly, and it encourages Lightning to push deeper, actually seek his hole out with curious fingers. He feels sweat-damp and hot and the hair is soft and crinkled and familiar here, the muscle furled and fluttering under the pad of his thumb. Doc’s body doesn’t feel that different than his, which he guesses is sort of the deal, with gay sex. The sameness, the comfort. He hardly ever fingered girls when he was still sleeping with them, because everything down there was so terrifyingly _foreign,_ he felt like he was gonna break something, fuck up. But this, _this._ This is what he does to himself in the shower before he goes to bed, when he knows he’s gonna want Doc inside him and he’ll be too hungry for it to have patience for proper prep. 

He spits again and rubs the wet froth of it deep and steady into Doc’s hole, so fucking relieved that he knows what to _do,_ because Doc’s done it to him a million times before. “Fuck, can’t believe we waited so long to try this,” he murmurs, breath labored as he continues to mouth aimlessly between Doc’s thighs, over his erection, the hand he has curled around it. “You’re so fucking hot, feel so _good,”_ he moans, rubbing insistent circles into his rim, fascinated by the give, the tightness. 

“You know you actually have to get _inside,_ right?” Doc asks, though his actual voice comes out reedy, choppy. “Can’t just—need to _stretch_ me, I haven't fucked myself in—damn. I don’t even know. It’s been awhile.” 

“Jesus, I know what I need to _do,_ let me take my time touching you, ok?” Lightning chides, withdrawing his hand to uncap the lube bottle, wanting more slickness anyway. He coats his fingers and rubs the excess over Doc’s hole, Loving the way his face is so flushed and wrecked, the way he's gasping and squirming around from just _this. “_ You like it, don’t you? Like me touching you here?” 

“I’m—it’s overwhelming,” Doc admits, eyes a black-cored blue flash for a moment as he opens them and they land unfocused on Lightning before they snap shut again. “Never thought you would, thought we weren't gonna do that. Which was fine. M’lucky to have you at all. But I've never..I’m still catching up.”

“See, that’s why I’m going slow! Give me a break and trust me, babe,” Lightning murmurs, shifting up and sitting on his heels, shrugging off the red jacket and sitting there in nothing but his V neck and coif, which is coming undone, falling in gelled chunks in his face. “I can take care of you too, you know.” He pushes until Doc exhales and gives and his index finger slides in, a slow drag into smooth, clutching fire. “That ok?” he breathes, heart pounding with overwhelming and gratitude that he's actually getting to _touch_ Doc here, that Doc is _opening up_ his body for him after so many decades of fear, of being locked up. 

“Yeah, fuck. S’good. You can give me more, sweetheart,” Doc murmurs, reaching up with his free hand and pulling him down by the neck. “Kiss me while you do it.” 

Lightning works another lube-sticky finger up into tight heat, breath so ragged it sounds like he’s crying. “You’re tighter than I am,” he marvels, crooking his fingers and feeling around, experimentally, loving the way Doc shifts to accommodate him, keeps their lips brushing together. 

“I don’t get fucked every other day like you,” he reminds him, hand working faster on his cock as Lightning opens him up. “Want you in me,” he says then, and the certainty of it _scalds_ like boiling water, rips through Lightning so hard and fast he’s left trembling. “Gonna roll over, s’easier on my back that way.” 

“Sure, ok,” Lightning gasps, withdrawing his fingers, getting the lube to slick himself up as Doc maneuvers where he wants to be. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion, like they're underwater, the world hazy with heat. Blood roars in his ears as he he lines himself up, heart pounding while he thumbs Doc’s ass apart, gaze fixed on the silver hair there shining with lube, his hole dark and twitching. “Ready?” he asks, rubbing the crown of his cock right against the tight pucker, wondering how the fuck he’s gonna fit. Like, he's not even big, not at _all,_ but it doesn't look possible, like this is an opening that can be pushed into painlessly. He wonders how the Doc _does_ it, Doc with his big thick cock, how he just _knows_ he’ll fit up inside Lightning with such conviction he’ not scared to sink in to the hilt. 

“Yeah, go ahead baby,” Doc rasps, rubbing the outside of Lightning’s thigh gently, reassuringly. “Fuck me.” 

It takes Lightning a few failed attempts to actually breach the tight ring of muscle, but once he does the rest is easy. He holds himself up and slides in inch by inch, kissing Doc’s shoulder blade the whole time, to ground himself as much as Doc. “Jesus fucking christ,” he chokes out once he’s all the way in, chest pressed to Doc’s spine. “You’re so—M’not gonna last. Fuck.” He’s so much _tighter_ than a girl, impossibly tight and hot, every twitch and flicker and and flex of the muscle so _wildly_ noticeable. Lightning feels like the come’s gonna be milked right out of him, like he’ll be squeezed into finishing before he means to, like he’s been a fucking _fool_ for the last year not begging to do this. 

“You will,” Doc murmurs, mouth open and panting. “Just stay there. Let us both relax, it’ll get easier.” 

Lightning cries out, the strength in his arms wavering from holding himself up. “Is it—do you feel good? Is it good?” He manages to ask, wondering if it _hurts,_ if Doc’s voice is strangled sounding like that because he didn't use enough lube, or if maybe it feels like nothing at all, if he’s too small, disappointing. 

Doc lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh before grinding out, “S’perfect, fit me so good, baby. Just the right size. Should have known.” 

It feels _really_ good to hear that, so much so Lightning’s perpetually plunging stomach holds fast for a moment, allows him to settle himself, shift a bit, working his cock shallowly in and out. Doc was right, he's got a hold of his body now and things have loosened up a little and he doesn’t feel in danger of coming instantly anymore. “Gonna show you how to take it,” he whispers against Doc’s thundering pulse, remembering what he said, about James Dean, about what he’d craved when he was younger. Lightning’s mouth is flooded, and he swallows wetly before adding. “Gonna make you come on my cock.” 

Part of him still expects Doc to laugh at him, mock him for trying to convince either of him he has _anything_ to teach, but he doesn’t. His gasps low and hot and hollows his back, pushes his ass out to meet Lightning’s clumsy, hungry bucks. “Feel so good,” he murmurs, making a fist in the sheets. “Having a boy as pretty as you inside me.” 

“Yeah?” Lightning asks, words breathless and syncopated as he thrusts, thighs burning. It’s _amazing_ how sore and trembly he is already, just from this. The fact Doc pounds him on the regular is _astonishing,_ makes him feel all choked up with how lucky he is, how _good_ Doc is to him, for him. Panting, he adjusts his position, and instead of fucking in and out he stays deep, working his hips in circles. “Feel good like this, too?” 

“Jesus, yeah, baby,” Doc groans before gritting his teeth, reaching back and grabbing Lightning’s thigh hard, holding him there, thumb making a bloodless indent. “Just like that. Give it to me.” 

Lightning does. He’s shaky and unsteady and the pleasure is so stomach-turningly intense and nervy its hard to keep a rhythm, but Doc keeps gasping, meeting him half-way, groaning out partially unintelligible words of encouragement so he _must_ be doing a good job. He’s sort of forgotten about his vow to make Doc come on _his_ cock when his orgasm approaches unavoidably, rapidly, fiercely. “Fuck, _jesus,_ Doc m’gonna—can I come in you?” 

Doc makes a _sound_ at that, raw and animal and grateful and tear-ragged and it pushes Lightning over so easy, his spine snapping, hips jack-hammering gracelessly as he comes into the searing vice of Doc’s body, mouth open and drooling onto his back. “That’s it baby, fill me up,” Doc murmurs as he backs up, sheathing Lightning completely, following him so the tight twitching heat is inescapable. 

The world is static and sweat and stinging overwhelm, Lightning only distantly aware of it all as he collapses onto Doc’s back in the sobbing after-shocks of his orgasm, body still lost to the throes of it. “Ugh,” he murmurs, rubbing his hot-wet face into Doc’s scapula. “So much for showing _you_ how to take it.” 

“Stop,” Doc murmurs fondly, ass still pulsing around Lightning’s cock, milking it. “You were perfect. Especially for your first time. M’m not complaining. Anyway, I bet James Dean was just the sort of fuck you are. Overeager, so pretty it hurts, trying his hardest but always ending up ruined.”

It’s a weird compliment, but Lightning will take it, as long as he can hear the way Doc loves him, every word saturated in adoration. “How do you want to get off?” he mumbles hoarsely, smoothing a palm down Doc’s heaving side. “Want me to stay here, in you?”

“Wanna come in that sweet, dirty mouth,” Doc tells him, reaching back and slapping his thigh, motioning for him to get off. “Roll onto your back, give me your hand.” 

Lightning does as he’s told, mind buzzing and cock still half-hard and flexing as he pulls out of Doc’s ass in a slick of lube and come. It should be gross but its not; he doesn't even have time to worry about it because Doc is arranging him, pushing his slack body down the bed, reaching for his trembling fingers and drawing them towards him, nudging up under his balls. “Get those back inside me, feel what you did, what a mess you made,” he murmurs, fisting his cock as Lightning whimpers, stunned by how fucking _easy_ it is to slide up into Doc’s body now that he’s fucked, messy and puffy and swollen, come still filthy-hot inside him. Lightning adds another finger so there’s a stretch, a drag, and then he’s opening his hungry mouth, tongue out and waiting. 

Doc doesn't waste any time giving it to him, pushing inside the wet-hot of his mouth, pulling his hair as he curses. “Made for me, aren't you,” he murmurs, eyes flashing, searing and too-blue the way they always get when he’s close, when he’s getting off on _possessing_ Lightning, knowing with rare and unfaltering certainty that Lightning is _his,_ will do whatever he wants, whatever he asks. It always makes Lightning feel crazy powerful, crazy desirable, because _he_ knows it too. Knows it in his bones and lives to know it, to be the perfect boy for Doc and Doc only. He nods, groaning wordlessly, fingers pushing in and out in a slick of his own come. 

He looks up at Doc with wide hazy eyes, mouth open, drool rolling down his cheeks and pooling at the corners of his mouth as Doc fills it, pushing his thick cock into his throat. Lighting sucks and gasps and it doesn't take long for Doc to finish, jacking off directly onto Lightning’s desperate, messy-wet tongue, ribbons of thick white fire, the best thing there is. 

Lightning’s usually so hungry for Doc’s come he commits entirely to swallowing it down, but this time, he chokes, sputters, because he’s so distracted by the way it feels from the _inside,_ when Doc comes. The walls of his ass clinching down and pulsing, holding him there, fluttering in wild spasms. He knows that happens; he’s felt his body do the same countless times, but this is so _different,_ to have it around his knuckles, the grip so fierce and perfect he cries out so come leaks down his jawline and pools in the hollow his collarbone. 

His throat and wrist are sore, but he doesn't want to move. He stays there, curled onto his side in nothing but his shirt, licking sloppy circles around the slit of Doc’s twitching, spent cock, fingers trapped inside him, puckered with wet and nestled up against his heartbeat. “You’re so beautiful,” Doc murmurs eventually, cupping his face, thumbing up the mess of spit and come from his chin, his Adam’s apple. “My baby boy. Fucked me so good, so perfect.” 

“Yeah?” Lightning croaks, blinking blearily as he chases Doc’s fingers with a sloppy mouth, not wanting to waste a drop of anything important. He sucks the come off, lashes fluttering, stomach in knots. “It didn't turn out exactly how I planned it, but it was still amazing,” he admits as he pulls away. “Also like, how do I get my fingers out?” 

Doc laughs, reaches down between his on knees and gently eases Lightning out by the wrist. “Sex with you never goes how I plan, either. You always throw me for a loop, ruin all my plans because you’re too pretty to say no to.” 

“Well _thank you,”_ Lightning sighs, wincing as he rubs at the tendons in his wrist with his other hand. “Damn, I was underestimating you, all this time. That was _a lot_ of work and I lasted like, half the time you do. I’m impressed.” 

“You’ll get better at that part,” Doc assures him, rolling off the bed and coming back with tissues to clean them both up. “You were wonderful.” 

He hikes him up and kisses his hair and they lie tangled for a moment, smoothing palms all over each other’s bodies in this way that always makes Lightning feel heavy-limbed and content but too happy to be properly sleepy, like he needs to stay awake to soak everything up, _bask_ in the incredible sea of touching, being touched. “Sorry I made you miss Flo’s trivia night,” Doc rasps after a moment, knuckles pausing to press gently into Lightning’s pulse. “I got caught up.” 

“It’s fine, you know I’d rather do everything… _anything_ with you, right? Especially fuck your ass for the first time. Damn. Long time coming, I’d say.” 

Doc’s low laugh rumbles through both of them. “How about next time I come with you, as a compromise?” 

“What? To a thing with our friends?” Lightning asks, too surprised to be properly hopeful yet, too afraid of hope to be properly _elated._ Doc smoothes a reassuring hand through his hair, thumbs the lines at the tails of his eyes like he's remembering the way they crinkle up when he smiles. 

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “I reckon they already know about us, anyway. Can’t promise I’ll dress up in _costume,_ but—”

Lightning doesn't let him finish, just kisses him hard, gets his teeth in it, presses their bodies flush and grinding, like their bones could fuse if he just tried hard enough, was patient enough. 

 

 

 


End file.
